


Power and Control

by WreckItRhino



Series: South Park School for the Gifted [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Fantastics Universe, Gen, Gen Fic, M/M, Pre-Relationship, South Park School for the Gifted, When puberty done you dirty, world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 01:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14864228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WreckItRhino/pseuds/WreckItRhino
Summary: What happens when you have a bunch of kids developing superpowers throughout the country? A panicking government throwing them all into a boarding school and hoping for the best.At least, that's what Tweek suspects is happening.





	Power and Control

**Author's Note:**

> I've been technically writing this fic for two years and developing this AU for even longer BUT I finally got the motivation to finish this (finally). This is the first installment and set-up for the Fantastics AU and how SPSFG works.
> 
> Disclaimer: This AU precedes any and all development with Fractured But Whole. As a result, many of the kids have different powers from their FBW counterparts.

For someone who was about to become isolated in what was essentially a quarantine zone, Tweek was surprisingly calm about the situation, which was a marvel in itself. You see, on any normal given day, Tweek simply did not do calm. His imagination and anxiety often ran wild whenever he focused too much on the “if’s” and the “could be’s” and, for the most part, he had been fine with how his mind and emotions worked. It had become comfortable and familiar. Ever since the unfortunate day he had discovered he was one of _them_ , well, things had never been normal since. No longer was he able to think and feel freely. His emotions were much too intense to give in to his typical thought processes. 

But there was hope. He was given an opportunity to reclaim his normality by giving up his freedom in exchange for the possibility of control. And, quite frankly, how could he possibly pass that up? Especially when he had no other option but to accept the proposition. At least he wasn’t alone. With two others currently on board and the promise of many more at the boarding school he was headed to, there was no chance of him being completely isolated. 

Tweek rested his forehead against the seat in front of him, his eyes closed, and he fiddled with one of his many spinner rings absentmindedly. They were one of the few objects they let him keep. 

_Oh, God. Let this be a good decision._

A poke to the shoulder ripped him from his ugly thoughts, disrupting the inner peace he was failing to obtain. With a start, he sat up and looked anxiously towards whoever invaded his personal space wondering the “who’s” and “why’s”. A boy not much older than him blocked his exit. His mouth was moving but Tweek couldn’t hear what sounds they made over the music that was blasting through his over-ear headphones and Tweek, well, Tweek was too busy focusing on the kid’s eyes to make a move to resolve that situation--be it to take his headphones off or to take the time to attempt to read his lips. 

Glowing a shimmering blue with tendrils of light escaping from its corners, his eyes were one of the most brilliant yet intimidating things Tweek had ever seen. 

Upon realizing that Tweek was paying absolutely no attention to his words, the boy in front of him flipped him off. Startled by the sudden gesture, Tweek was forced out of his stupor. Sheepishly, he shoved off his headphones and immediately readjusted his hearing aids, finally making out what was being spoken to him: “Come on, everyone else is already off of the bus.” 

“Gah! Sorry, I’ll be right there.” He grabbed his backpack that he had placed on the floor earlier and made his leave. 

His first thought upon leaving the bus was that it was cold. Much colder than he thought a mountain town should be. In fact, there was still snow on the ground despite it being well into summer. If he had known this was what South Park looked like, he’d have saved his coffee for after the hour-long drive. His hands were shaking, but that had nothing to do with the weather or the remnants of his caffeine rush. 

The woman in charge lined them all up along the side of the charter bus. Tweek was placed nearest to its door. She took a moment to silently assess all three of them. She didn’t look cruel or predatory like Tweek had expected. Rather, she had a genuinely pleasant smile on her face which combated against her strict business attire. Although it was clear she didn’t have any malicious intent, Tweek couldn’t help but fidget. He didn’t like being stared at. 

“Welcome to South Park’s School for the Gifted. My name is Miss Claridge and I will be your guide and primary contact for this facility. As you all should be aware of by now, each and every one of you are Fantastics. Some of you are already well acquainted with what you’re capable of; for others, this is still an extremely new experience. You’re at a time where you’re at your most vulnerable. We’re here to ensure each and every one of you that you are safe and that we will do our best to make it so that you can safely return to society.” 

_Make it? Make it how, exactly?_ Will they teach them control? Make their powers obsolete through some sort of genetic experiments? As far as Tweek could tell, the government hadn’t a damn clue what to do with his generation, specifically those who started to develop superhuman abilities. No health class could have ever prepared him or any of the others for puberty. There was no paragraph reserved for the Fantastics then, especially for those who had an unnecessarily explosive awakening of their powers. The most the government could do in such short notice was forcefully isolate them all in one of the three heavily controlled locations. 

“Before we begin introductions, there are a few rules that we must address. Please pay the utmost attention to them. Noncompliance is not an option and will be punished accordingly if you violate any of the rules. 

“First and foremost, leaving the premises is prohibited unless you’re accompanied by government officials with the proper clearance level. Secondly, you are not allowed to bring anything into the facility that has not been approved by the higher ups. If there’s a particular item you need, you’ll have to go through Mr. Mackey. He works as the facility’s student counselor and therapist. Yes?” Miss Claridge turned her attention towards Tweek’s hesitantly raised hand. 

“What about animals?” 

“You’d have to talk to Mr. Mackey. Pets are usually forbidden unless it’s directly related to your powers or you’ve been given special permission to have an ESA.” Tweek noticed that the kid who escorted him out of the bus smiled briefly at that. 

“Finally, there’s a strict no drugs, no alcohol policy on campus grounds. The only exception is if it acts as, whether completely or in part, a source of your power. It’ll make more sense when you’ve become acquainted with one of our residents. Very well then, any questions? No? Good. Feel free to approach me any time if you can think of anything. With that out of the way, I believe introductions are in order before we proceed to our next destination.” 

Her attention redirected itself away from the whole of the group to a particular individual standing at its beginning, causing everyone to follow her line of vision. She was taller than the boy he had met on the bus. Her wild curly hair was somehow condensed into two buns on the sides of her head. He could barely make out the thin layer of freckles that littered her nose at the distance he was at. Her body appeared to be fading in and out of the picture while her clothes remained wholly visible. “I’m Nichole.” 

The person standing to his right who seemed to be regarding everyone with a flair of indifference was the kid that ensured he wasn’t forgotten on the bus. He spoke with a nasally tone and a very subtle lisp, which was due to the braces he wore: “Craig.” 

That left Tweek Tweak. 

As soon as the first pair of eyes made eye contact with him, his hands subconsciously spun a few of his spinner rings, a healthier alternative to his usual hair-pulling tendencies he was prone to doing. “Ngh--Tweek. Ugh, Tweek Tweak.” He sheepishly gave them all a half wave. 

“It’s nice to meet each and every one of you.” Here she paused to send off the bus driver with a simple flick of her wrist. She then approached an intercom unit built into the brick wall that surrounded the grounds and pressed a button. “The children have arrived.” 

“Very well.” A woman’s voice responded. The giant metal gates started to slowly open inward. They were encouraged inside. Tweek looked back anxiously as the gates closed shut behind them. There was no going back now. 

“Now then. With introductions out of the way, we’re free to move on to the next part of our agenda. We are to travel to the training room. There, you will demonstrate what all of you are capable of with no restrictions in place. I will be assessing your powers and submitting my interpretation of them to a special review board so that you will all be properly designated to one of three potential categories: Class A, B, or C. Once reviewed, you will receive a uniform that reflects that class type. Besides the shirt, you’re free to wear whatever clothing you desire, so long as the bottoms are black and your shirt is visible.” She sent them all a smile. “Feel free to talk amongst yourselves while we walk. It’ll take a few minutes for us to get there.” 

\---

The walk towards the large, imposing building was initially quiet. Tweek was spending the silence attempting to stave off his internal panic. The moment he had agreed to enter that bus was the moment he had signed off his freedom. He was aware of that. He couldn't afford to think that this was a mistake. 

“Hey.” Tweek started. _Oh god, what did he want?_ Curious brown eyes, instead of the iridescent blue he had seen earlier, greeted him when he looked down. “So, uh, what’s with the…” Craig trailed off awkwardly, shrugging when he couldn't come up with the word and tapped his ear. 

Tweek nodded in immediate understanding, subconsciously bringing one hand to his head. “These? They're my hearing aids.” Feeling pressured (ha ha), Tweek added, “From barotrauma. Ngh-- Kind of my fault. You know how it is.” Tweek cringed at how stupid that last line was. He doubted the kid even knew what 'barotrauma’ even was. _Stupid. Stupid._

“Do you need to read our lips?” Nichole butted in. 

“I, I mean it helps, but, uh, so long as I have the volume up I should be fine.” Tweek smiled at her sheepishly. 

“Good to know.” She gave him a brief smile before she flickered out for a couple of seconds. 

“You think we can watch Red Racer here?” Craig muttered offhandedly, instantly changing the subject after a few beats of silence. 

“They better. Can you imagine having no TV? Movie nights are important.” Nichole nodded sagely. 

“Agreed. A fate worse than prison if they don't,” Craig responded matter of factly. 

“If they didn't, ngh, I doubt this place would have lasted this long. No TV and a building full of teenagers? A disaster waiting to happen.” Tweek wasn't expecting the laugh that burst out of Craig. Short and nasally that ended in a snort. He blinked in surprise and attempted to will away the blush that was spreading across his face. He gave his ring another twirl to act as a distraction. 

“You three are in luck. We have an entire entertainment lounge that’s accessible to everyone,” Miss Claridge intercepted their discussion with ease. “We’ll actually pass by it on our way to the training room.” 

A particularly strong gust of wind hit Tweek as she opened the door. He shivered, rubbing his hands furiously against his arms. “C-christ, why is South Park so cold? It was nowhere this--ngh, chill in Denver.” 

“Probably because of the mountains.” 

“Very perceptive, Craig. Our little town is often much colder than other places in Colorado due to the mountain effect. We also get more rain and snow than what you may be used to,” Miss Claridge said cheerily. 

“Great,” Tweek grumbled to himself. To be locked in a building on what felt like the coldest place on earth was not how Tweek wanted to spend the rest of his years. 

“Do you need to borrow my sweater?” Nichole looked at him with slight concern and started to shrug off the fluffy pink apparel she was wearing. 

Embarassed, Tweek vehemently shook his head. “N-No thank you. I should warm up pretty quick. It, um, it just caught me off guard.” 

Nichole shrugged. “If you change your mind, just let me know.” 

He offered her a placating smile before focusing away from his companions and their guide. The foyer of the building was massive. Carpet lined the floors leading to what felt like dozens of branching hallways. The building had a new home smell with outdated furnishings. Even still, nothing felt out of place. It was _too_ neat. 

The detour towards their destination was relatively uneventful aside from two instances. First, they passed the entertainment lounge. A massive flat screen TV hung on top of an impressive horizontal bookshelf full of DVDs and boardgames. The room was occupied by five people around their age, two of which were fighting over the remote to the point that it was threatening to become physical while one attempted to act as barrier between them. 

For a moment, Tweek could have sworn he felt that gust of wind return but the only window within the room was shut closed. 

“Boys,” Miss Claridge’s sweet voice broke through the shouts causing everyone in that room to pause. She smiled. “Play nice.” Everyone scrambled to sit properly. The fat kid, one of the two fighting for the remote, took the opportunity to swipe the device, changing the channel. The other scowled in response to the kid’s cheeky sharp-toothed (literally, he had sharp teeth) grin he gave him. 

“We’ll be good,” the attempted-interceptor offered. 

“See that they do, Stan.” She turned back to the group. “Shall we?” 

And again, when they were just nearing their destination, someone intercepted their path. 

He was tall by most people’s standards, but to Tweek he was barely taller than him. Golden lines reached up his neck splaying gently along his cheeks. Long blond hair lightly brushed against his shoulders with every movement of his head. He sported a forest green shirt that was partially tucked into his dark dress pants. He spoke with a posh accent, lips curling into an ingenuine smile, “Hello there chaps. The name’s Philip Pirrup.” Tweek instantly disliked him. 

“Hello Pip,” Miss Claridge greeted pleasantly, not realizing the name she used caused his smile to falter. “Is there anything I can help you with?” 

“No ma’am.” 

She glanced at the door he was loitering by, smiled, and then knocked despite Pip’s weak protests. “Michael is there any reason why Pip isn’t in his room?” 

The music that was blasting from the room suddenly cut off. Murmurs were heard before footsteps approached the door. An extraordinarily tall and lanky individual leaned against the frame, a lit cigarette idly resting in his mouth. He had black curly hair, lax eyes that glanced at them all judgmentally, and a carefree demeanor. Unlike Pip, his shirt was a dark blue. 

“Yeah?” 

Miss Claridge peaked into his room, “Hello, Pete.” It was then that Tweek noticed the other person in the room lounging on the bed, semi-hidden by Michael’s large and imposing figure. He was average looking aside from the pockmarks, the red and black dyed hair, and the piercings adorning his ears. He, too, was wearing a green shirt. 

Michael shifted his body to subtly push out Miss Claridge from the room. “What did you want?” 

“Pip here is standing outside your room, any reason for that?” 

“He offered.” Michael took a moment to take a drag of his cigarette. Oddly enough the smoke remained in a controlled curl around Michael’s body. He was likely the exception to the zero-drug tolerance policy Miss Claridge had briefly mentioned. “Besides, we didn’t want any conformists ruining the vibe.” 

“Oh come now. Pip has every right to come and go as he pleases. Do we need to get Mr. Mackey involved?” 

Pip attempted to placate her. “Miss Claridge, it’s alright, really. I can go watch the telly in the lounge or see if Damien wants to pal around. That’s what I was about to do anyways.” 

“If you insist.” She turned back to the door of their shared room. “Have fun with Pete. And Michael, just a reminder to keep your cigarettes to yourself.” 

He raised his cigarette in a sort of mock toast before shutting the door. The music resumed. 

“I’ll be off. Miss Claridge, do you know if anyone is in the lounge?” Pip asked. 

“Just Eric and the boys.” 

“Oh uh, I best be off to see Damien then. Cheerio.” He wandered off. 

“Sorry for the delay. We at South Park’s School for the Gifted try our best to mitigate any potential conflicts.” She pointed towards Pip who just left. “That, again, is Philip Pirrup, most of the children call him Pip.” Tweek shared a look with the others. It was clear to everyone but Miss Claridge that that wasn’t a flattering nickname. Tweek just hoped he wouldn’t be called a ‘spaz’ like his last school. She gestured towards the door. “And that was Michael Caines and Peter Thelman. These are just some of the kids you’ll be living with.” She clapped her hands, brightening up. “Now. Where were we? Next stop, the training room.” 

\---

Her voice reverberated throughout the room: “Begin.” 

His eyes instinctively sought out the one-way window that lined the north wall. Tweek couldn’t see the collective stare of those on the other side, but he could feel them scrutinizing him, judging him. They were picking apart every bit of his flesh and blood, thought and truth until there was nothing left for him. He forced his attention away, even though that nagging feeling remained in the back of his mind. 

Tweek adjusted his hearing aids and focused on the targets that were about twenty feet in front of him. Did they really have to choose mannequins? They looked like people. This wasn’t good for his wellbeing. He closed his eyes. _No. Don’t think about them. Just breathe. Swallow._

His hands were shaking at this point. His whole body was shaking. A deep and heavy feeling started to accumulate within his gut, as if a bowling ball was placed right on top of his abdomen. He held onto the feeling. Willed it to grow. Fed it. His breathing started to become more shallow and panicky as the feeling started to consume him. The targets across from him began to create a strange noise. Hell, even the walls did. Tweek tried not to linger on that sound. He only needed to focus on that feeling. Hold it. Nurture it. Contain it within him. 

Tweek opened his eyes and released. 

The mannequins suddenly crushed into themselves from the sudden pressure change Tweek had evoked in a matter of seconds. It was a horrifying and violent display. Like always, it scared Tweek. He was terrified of what he could do, reminded of what he had almost done. 

“Very good.” 

Tweek closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to will the pressure around him to stabilize and return to its previous state. 

“Is this atmospheric or gravitational manipulation?” Miss Claridge’s voice broke his concentration, briefly causing the atmosphere to fluctuate. 

“I think it’s just the–ngh–pressure. I-I don’t know,” he twitched. The door leading to the room suddenly unlocked and opened. He was free to leave and join the others again. 

With the release of that much chaotic force after repressing the feeling for months, it was no wonder why Tweek was in a minor daze. His body was shaky and on edge and his mind felt lethargic. This was a usual occurrence after experiencing something so strenuous. He just needed to find his equilibrium again. Typically, he would consume a strong cup of coffee to center himself; however, he had long since finished off what was in his thermos. Instead, he resorted to the rubix cube he had packed in his small backpack. Tweek idly moved the pieces as he watched the others demonstrate their abilities from the bench that lined the far wall of the observation room. 

Shortly after entering, Nichole stood off to the side of the mannequins looking at them deep in thought before turning towards the window. “I can’t damage them with my ability.” 

“The mannequins are just there for offensive demonstrations. Feel free to use whatever is necessary or request an item to be brought into the chamber if need be,” Miss Claridge responded using the com system. She sat patiently in a mobile padded chair, writing down notes as she watched. 

Nichole nodded, curls bouncing with every movement. Without another word, she disappeared. Well, everything except the clothing she wore. 

“Invisibility? Interesting. Your cells might have a component that allows for the complete transmittance of light. Similar to glass but more effective in practice. We may ask for a cell sample at some point to confirm. Anything else?” 

Nichole flickered back into focus. “Not that I can tell.” 

“Very good. You may trade places with Craig.” Miss Claridge opened the door to the chamber, letting Nichole stroll out. 

Up until now, Craig had been leaning casually against the wall, showing little interest in the whole affair. At this point in time, his eyes were glowing that strange, blue luminescence again. Tweek could only guess what he could do with eyes like that. 

“I’m not going in there.” 

Tweek blinked. _Wait, what?_

“Is there a problem, Craig?” Miss Claridge asked with genuine concern. 

“I won’t be able to do anything in there unless you happen to have any guinea pigs on hand.” He refused to look at any of them. Was he embarrassed? It was hard to tell. “I can talk to them. We can understand each other. Sometimes I can get them to follow commands.” 

Miss Claridge looked perplexed, “That’s it? And what about the glowing eyes?” 

“They don’t do anything as far as I know. They just glow occasionally.” He shrugged his shoulders. “We done now?” 

“Just give me one moment. May I look at your eyes more closely? Preferably with you staring at the one-way window in the training room? Just for an added safety precaution,” Miss Claridge asked kindly. 

Craig finally met her eyes before directing his attention towards the door. He stood up straight and walked over to it in a lax fashion, flipping her off so quickly Tweek questioned if he had even done it. With the pane of glass acting as a physical barrier between her and the potentially-volatile power, Miss Claridge examined his eyes closely, jotting down what Tweek could only assume were theories and observational notes as to what the glowing meant. 

Nichole and Tweek occasionally exchanged glances, unsure as to whether or not they were allowed to speak while she was concentrating. After three agonizingly slow minutes had passed, she pressed the button of the intercom. “Okay, Craig. You’re free to come back.” 

“Finally.” 

Miss Claridge stood up after reopening the door. She jotted one final note in her clipboard before submitting it to a hidden shelf in the wall. “With that, children, your main assessment is finished. These files are being sent to a review board in order to properly classify you in one of three potential categories: A, B, and C.” She paused for a moment, as if considering her next words carefully. Tweek couldn’t vouch for the others, but she had his utmost attention. His hearing aids were properly adjusted, and his eyes were trained firmly on her lip movement. 

“Class A are denoted by green shirts. Class A students have abilities considered dangerous and, potentially deadly. These powers primarily affect people offensively and can do a lot of damage if the person loses their control over their ability. For instance, Peter Thelman, to put it simply, is a pyrokinetic.” Which also meant that Pip and two of the kids in the lounge were also Class A. 

“Class B are denoted by purple shirts. Their abilities range from relatively harmless to harmful but not outright dangerous. Eric, which I had mentioned briefly when talking with Pip, is Class B. He has enhanced senses, can withstand the cold, and has sharp claws and teeth, not unlike a racoon.” 

“Finally, Class C are denoted by blue shirts. They’re essentially the odd kids out. We’re not entirely sure what the extent of their power set is and there are signs that their powers are still developing. They are obligated to make frequent visits to the nurse’s office we have on campus to monitor their power development, among other tests. Michael is Class C. He’s being monitored for his smoke manipulation amongst other developing powers affiliated with it.” If Tweek recalled correctly, one of the kids in the lounge was also wearing a similar blue shirt. He wondered, momentarily, how many more there were. 

“Now I can’t say for certain as to what class you will become, but, seeing as I’m well versed in the process, I can make a guess as to what category they will place you. Would you like me to?” The other two nodded almost immediately; whereas, Tweek was a bit more hesitant. What if she got it wrong? What if-- No! No. No more ifs. Focus on the now. He nodded determinedly as he moved a panel of blocks on his rubix cube. 

“Very well. Nichole, you will no doubt be categorized in Class B. Your ability, though interesting, is relatively harmless in the grand scheme of things. As for Craig, we’ll most likely place you in Class C. Although your communication with guinea pigs would normally place you in Class B, your glowing eyes have me concerned that you are developing yet another now-unknown ability. And, finally, Tweek, my guess would be that you’d be placed in Class A. Although we don’t know exactly what to label your power as other than, potentially, ‘atmospheric manipulation’, it is clear that it’s very dangerous both seen here and, well, back at home.” 

Tweek nodded absentmindedly, slowly reaching up to grab a clump of his hair before he stopped himself and spun his ring instead. Right. Dangerous and deadly. That was him. 

“We’ve already arranged your roommates and room locations; however, we will require a three-day adjustment period in which you will be sleeping alone in a temporary room. It’s simply a precautionary measure to ensure you will pose no threat to your new roommate. 

“Nichole, you will be rooming with Red Tucker in room 18. Craig, you will be rooming with Token Black in Room 21. And Tweek, you will be rooming with Peter Thelman in Room 27.” _Shit._ If he’s anything like how Michael was with Pip... 

“With that, I’ll be leading you to your temporary sleeping arrangements so you can begin to get comfortable.” 

\---

Alone. After the stress that was today, Tweek was glad to finally be left to his own devices. He shucked off his shoes, tossed his bag into a corner, and plopped down right into the middle of the bed face first. 

The room felt despondent, which was okay with Tweek. Miss Claridge promised them it was for only a few days. Still, it was depressing. Everything felt impersonal and Tweek only felt here by name. 

He rolled over, slid on his headphones and hit play on his phone. Calming music filled his head. A small comfort. 

_God this fucking sucked._

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to @ [morphing-reality](http://morphing-reality.tumblr.com) for helping me edit this fic and morphing-reality & [ashenlight](http://ashenlight.tumblr.com) for idea bouncing. Both can be found on tumblr.
> 
> Please feel free to leave a comment and a kudos if you enjoyed this fic :)


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